SHE- Arshiya Garg

She locked herself in a room,

And spent time looking at the moon.

She cried for sleep at night,

Tears made her eyes shine bright.

She was scared to share things.

Like someone will pull all the painful strings.

She fought every second of her life,

Drowning in the pretty little lies.

She made everyone around her smile,

But she herself was too fragile.

She was scared to be alone,

But still loved to live on her own.

She sometimes hated herself,

Because she never knew how to love oneself.

She thought how a new day should start,

But every time her heart would just fall apart.

IT HAPPENED TO BE ON THAT DAY- Puja Parekh

It happened to be on that day

When we were on our highs

Where I lost my virginity

As a momentary gift to say goodbye

I showed you my scars & flaws that day

And you stood there with wide eyes

Took a moment of pause & then you sighed

Looking at me calmly & pleasantly

Beneath my clavicle & in between my thighs

And in between those moments

You stared right into my eyes

Giving me the assurance I so needed that night

But I was still nervous & anxious of all the judgements I’d already passed in my mind.

You looked at me silently & closely

As if you waited all your life for this precious time

And I was noticing how you were appreciating every part of mine

Like I was some kind of pure divine

And love is divine only but, difficult always

so we tend to let go

the love which rise our soul

but afraid to suffer the melancholy it contains

It wasn’t easy for both of us we knew

But there I was, uncovered & unhidden in front of you

And you touched it all so gently & softly

Knowing it all could make me weak

That one night where my heart was beating so fast,

With all your electrifying touch, I was at the peak

That one last night where we just made love,

And didn’t speak.

Marriage - Good or Bad? - Aanchal Verma

Marriage is a union of two souls, who vow to spend together life

She is my wife but the two live happily in strife

Marry to a man but what if he is a naive

I have heard it ain’t for the weak, for you need to be really brave

Marriage is beautiful they say, but I say its a dungeon

It’s a blessed union, not meant to die under a puncheon

Marry your love for it is pure, warm, and adoring they say

But you alter your thoughts my way for if you want to stay

Marriage means commitment we hear, it needs your time and devotion

But its often two hearts frozen till the deep of the ocean

Marriage is good, bad and so many this and thats

But I ask what is marriage, for to me it is hitting in world with a splat

DISQUIET LAKE - SHRUTI VERMA SINGH

You and me

Walking lakeside

No holding hands

Just comforting

In complete silence

Nothing left to be said

Nothing more

Nothing new

As we walk

No compulsion

No desire

No arousal

Of the body

Or heart

Or mind

Just me

Just you

When you let me be me

And I let you be you

Where he lets me be me

Where I let him be him

And in between

A vacant space

Of nothingness

Of disquiet

Aversion

Diversion

A torrid escape

Of heaving hearts

Of quiet

Of age

Of Ageing

Of Wrinkles

Of friendship

And giving

And finding yourself

A rediscovering

Of meaninglessness

Of Wordlessness

The lake knows

It knows these things

It’s seen more tears

Than the water it holds

Silent tears

Unrequited tears

Tears that laugh

Tears of the lonely

Deep unconfessed tears

Discomforting tears

Of anger

Of passing time

And disquiet hearts

Of unspoken pain

Of open wounds

Tears are invisible blood

Like sweat

Salty cries

But these moments

Are heavy noiseless cries

Of an unstill soul

Restless body and mind

And yet that weight

Close to the heart

Like an anchor thrown into the open sea

Moving quietly

Gently

Below the water

Landing between

The deep and blue

An open wound

Of uncried tears

Of unsaid words

Of unopened emotions

Of unacknowledged pain

Of unsound stillness

Of unknown sadness

Be still my soul

Dwell on it

Swell with it

Heave with it

The pain

And unsaid truths

That only you must know

And the lake

Of fears

Of grief

Of loss

Of time

Of fortitude

It knows it all

As it whispers

To the wind

As it caresses your hair

Saying it will be fine

One day

Perhaps not today

To live in hope

To change the fear

That nothing ever will make sense

Anymore

Yet it will

Someday

Just not today

Today I will

Dwell on it

Sit with it

That heaviness that weighs me down

With the lake

As witness

For it’s all knowing

It always knows

You can lie to yourself

But not the lake

It’s cold

It sees

It’s all knowing

Never forget

That feeling

Of knowing

That it knows.

When Death won't let you Die- Hridya Gireesh

Tear me into pieces, my soul from

my wrecked body.

I'm nothing more than an old rag sewed with guilt and despair.

The light has left my life and the

darkness frightens me.

How wretched I am, hopelessly longing for salvation.

So dig a grave for me too, and take

me with you before the Yew begins

to wither.

I can't rip you off from life, beloved.

The flower for your grave is yet to bloom.

Your thirst for me will only make you more desperate.

This haste is only until you touch me.

After that, there is no turning back.

When life becomes tiring you don't have to embrace me.

Ignore the shadows and go forth until you see the light that guides.

Don't burn your dreams up in the flames.

Don't put tears in your loved ones' eyes.

Lift your hopes up and see the virtues of life.

Breathe until you get a room of your own.

Pregnancy to Motherhood- Tanveer Sharma

My excitement in extreme got bounced,

When my pregnancy was announced,

My elation reached at its highest peak,

When I heard my baby’s heartbeat.

I started feeling my baby in the womb,

Crazy was me for those kicks in the womb,

On cloud nine, the curiosity was mine,

While being in pregnancy of month nine.

Finally, the most beautiful day arrived,

Though high blood pressure, but I strived,

In all extreme pains and loudly I cried,

Delivered the little angel and I smiled.

When I heard her melodious first cry,

My happiness was touching the sky,

Held her in my hand for the first time,

She was a fresh poem and a new rhyme.

Fifth May was the day a bit hotter,

I was blessed with a beautiful daughter,

She seemed to be a copy of her father,

Now, I feel elated to become a mother.

In the hospital, she came in my lap,

In my arms, my daughter took a nap,

Her little fingers were holding me,

Motherhood is somewhat moulding me.

In the meantime, happily, I was in tears,

My life was swapped forever into cheers.

Now, Tvisha shares her days with me,

Till the dusk, she stays with me.

The warmth we share with each other,

It is from our little chit-chat to laughter,

Her each emotion is damn special to me,

My doll has become so precious to me.

Loving her as so much my mother loves me,

Sharing my love with her & she does to me,

Now, she has become my morning alarm,

Her smile has filled my life with charm.

She has added beauty to my life,

I forgot my all pains when I had to strive,

It is true that daughters are the angels,

In every house, they are the life changers.

My all goodness is paid back by lord,

For the beautiful motherhood, I owe to God,

God blessed me with joy and laughter,

Because in my life, I have a cute little daughter.

Caged Liberty- Taroob Shabir

Don’t you walk bare-footed , the path is filled with numerous thorns

Don’t you look up at the boundless sky , remind yourself that you have a fenced castle

Don’t you dare , try not to fear !

There’s something beating deep inside , pounding , but yet put under 12 pair of bars.

The story of the prisoner of life and it’s scars.

The Jailbird knew no leaps and bounds

No norms or forms

So came upon him a worldly storm

Devastated all it’s charm

The saint left all his calm ,

Since then liberty remains captive serving the life of lifelessness .

So don’t you dare, try not to fear!

Everything is boxed , in here,

Don’t you try unfastening the strings

They want you to be the cocoons and not at all flutter your wings .

வாழ்க்கை பாடம்- Nithya K

வாழ்க்கை பாடம்

ஈரைந்து மாதங்கள் உனை சுமந்து

இப்பூவுலகை ரசிக்கவைத்த தெய்வம் உன் அன்னை!!!!

அழுகின்ற குரலின் ஒலி நிற்பதற்குள்

உன் தேவையறிந்து செயலாற்றும் ஒப்பில்லா உறவே உன் அன்னை!!!

பயமும் பதற்றமும் நிறைந்த நம் வாழ்வை

தெளிவும் நிதானமும் நிறைந்ததாக மற்றும் மாயாஜாலக்காரர் உன் தந்தை!!!

வலிகளும் சொற்களும் நமக்களித்து

நம்மை சிற்பமாக மற்றும் சிற்பி உன் தந்தை!!!!

ஆம்!!

கருங்கற்களும் வைரமாய் ஜொலிக்க சிறுநாட்கள் வலிவாங்குமே!!

இன்பமும் இரட்டிப்பாகும் துன்பம் தவிடுபொடியாகும்

உன் அருகாமையில் நான் நின்றால் தோழனே!!!

உரிமையை உறவாடும் என்னுயிர் சொந்தங்களே!!!

இதுவே சொர்க்கம்!!!!

மண் மதிக்கும் நம் மக்கள் நன் மக்களன்றோ!!

பொன்னாய் விளையும் நெற்கதிர்கள் தனை தாங்கும்

நம் மண்ணை தலை வணங்கி நிற்கிறதே!!

மனிதா ஒரு சொட்டு நீரும் அமிர்தமடா தாகமெடுக்கும் தருணத்தில்!!!

சுடு நெருப்பு சுவாலையாயினும் கடுங்குளிரில் நமை

காக்கும் நம் காவலன் அன்றோ!!!

வான் மழை பொழியும் நம் வானத்தின் அற்புதங்கள் பல பல…

உள்ளிழுக்கும் நம் உயிர் மூச்சு ஒரு நாள் வேலைநிறுத்தம் செய்தால்

மனித இனம் மரித்து போகுமே!!

செயற்கை நுண்ணறிவு ஆட்கொண்ட வேளையிலும் நம் இயற்கை நுண்ணறிவு

சகாப்தம் படைக்குமே!!!

ஒருபிடி மண் எடுத்து விதையூன்றி நாம் வைத்தால் காலம் முழுதும் இளைப்பாற

நிழல் தரும் மரத்தின் வாழ்வில் உள்ளதடா மனித உணர்வு!!!

தெருவில் சிறு பிள்ளை அழும் நேரம் நம் மனம் நோகும்

ஓடி சென்று கவலை தீர்த்து அம்மழலை முகத்தில் புன்னகை தவழும்

அந்நேரம் நம் கண்களில் ஆனந்த கண்ணீர் கரை புரண்டோடும்!!!!

பேருந்தில் அமர இடமின்றி தவிக்கும் மூதாட்டியின் நிலையறிந்து நாம் எழும்

அந்நேரம் அவரின் பார்வையின் ஆசீர்வாதங்கள் பல கோடி!!!!

இயற்கையின் இன்பத்திலும் மனிதாபிமானத்தின்

நெகிழ்ச்சியிலும் திளைத்து விடு மனிதா!!!!!!!

உணர்ந்துகொள்!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

இதைவிட பேரின்பம் ஏதும் இல்லை

இதுவே நம் வாழ்க்கை பாடம்!!!!

மாற வரம் தருவாயா?- JEYACHANDRAN RAJU

மாற வரம் தருவாயா?

உச்சரிக்கலாகா உபாதைகள்;

உச்சக்கட்டமாக, மரணவாயில் சென்று

பிரசவித்த பெறுவதற்கரிய அன்னையை

நிர்கதியாய் நிறுத்திவிட்டு,

அழியும் அற்பப்பொருள் வேண்டி

கண்டம்விட்டுக் கண்டம் பாயும்

அதிபுத்திசாலியாய் இருப்பதைவிட....

அலுங்கும் இலை,தழைகளை

அசுரத்தனமாய் ஆட்டுவித்து,

அடியோடு பிடுங்கி எறிய

எமனாய் எத்தனித்த புயலை

எதிர்த்து உயிர் காத்த

நிலத்தாயை நீங்கலாகாது,

வேர் பாய்ச்சி நிற்கும்

பட்டுப்போன மரமாய் மாற

வரம் தருவாயா இறைவா.…?

The poor woodcutter's dilemma- Aditya Vikram

A cheerful woodcutter, ready to fell,

to take the trunk and go to sell.

______________

Then came the voice, from the tree,

out of shock, the man lost his glee.

“Stop, o’ man”, don’t cut me down,

I am the mascot of purity around.

The man then gave a stern look,

like a villain from some fantasy book.

_________

Again warned the tree,

don’t be a fool, you ruthless dude,

I am much more than a piece of wood.

Come on man, use your brain,

I purify air, I bring rain.

______

In a hushed tone, said the man,

I am illiterate, how would I live,

I sustain myself, with the wood you give.

A stern silence then prevailed.

______

With a sorry face, he got ready to slew,

but today it wasn’t an easy gum to chew.

With the chat in mind and the axe in hand,

he still went ahead the way he had planned.

______

With a heavy heart and eyes moist,

he picked up the log and left the forest.

Let her live- Tanya Garg

She wants to live

She doesn't want to die,

She wants to smile

And doesn't want to cry,

She wants to be loved and cared like thee,

But she is treated like a prisoner

and never set to be free.

She is in pain,

and wants to be free

But we keep being nescius

Aren't we?

Why to be so caitiff, when you can be polite

She is also a human

and has her own rights.

Lets try to make this world,

A better place for her,

Where she can live freely

And be loved like others.

Its not difficult as it may sound,

Its we only who give her wounds

Its not a vitriol, I am trying to make it to be

But yes,

I am also a girl,

Who wants to be loved and cared like thee.

Time to Spare - By Apurva Gaonkar

Today I found some time to spare

Like the Ghost Orchid, tall and fair

Enchanting enough to excite my heart

With looks so fragile, like the priciest art

But the truth it is, however rare

Oh what should I do in this time to spare!

So burdened with this time to spare

I look around in despair

Suddenly, the air feels light and calm,

And I notice my breaths, soothing like a balm

But my mind races to find

Something unique in kind

To be done in this time to spare.

So armed with this time to spare

I probably began to care

Recalling those once called friends

Now relations difficult to amend

Maybe it is best to be alone

And not find company in the phone

For retrospection may put me at ease

In this time to spare.

With this time to spare

I notice the shades the trees wear

The birds that hop around its branches

The butterflies that flutter their colors around

I see the majestic hills behind them

And the sun shining, a bright emblem

Descending over my simple troubles

Bursting them like fragile bubbles

I spend some valued moments with myself

In this time to spare.

My burning rage- Hrishikesh Jha

My burning rage

I know today my senses lie in a burial chamber but I want to write about organic farming in which my ancestors planted extra arms around my body to make me feel less lonely.

I want to mock the cat leaping at my grandma for food because the cowardly cat was prepared to die eight more times rather than face human loneliness.

But l get hunger attacks thinking about it and now l want to add finger shaped gingers at the opposite ends of my waist and dip it in a light flame

to get a permanent frame of someone holding me.

But in my every picture somehow, my cloth becomes a fragment of a loose hand in a loose pocket and they drop dead when l open the fridge wiping away my self-esteem with the freon gas.

I know the sky is a large enough sheet of insurance policy which covers tantrums of all destroyed weapons.

The ocean is a blue carpet to welcome all the stories about refugees.

But everytime l don't want to be the one talking about losses.

I don't want to be a religion which hunts scapegoats for bad weather.

I don't want to be the mill factory where fathers unrolled sheets and forgot to bring their limbs back with them.

I don't want to be a ventilator carrying dead people because once my mother told me we become what we think.

And I think if l could have drawn, l would have sketched this:

A park where each person has seven coupons to last for a week.

It will be traded like crypto currency to hug any stranger who has a laughter vaccine.

So I sit on a bench in the middle because l want to stretch hope on both sides.

A girl unwraps a wrapper in front of me and spills the toffee onto the grass.

She giggles and picks it up telling me about the 5-second rule.

I look helplessly at my page and finally decide to write nothing on it today because my skin is burning like a skinned animal gone mad in a butcher's nightmare.

Damn my ancestors, did they run away in search of my friends or for their own freedom?

Isn't freedom absence of a wrong touch?

I remember the last sunday when the preacher warned me l should watch less baseball and instead l must try to catch the devil inside me.

But he wasn't impressed with my confession in which l wanted to touch everyone who is awake.

So after the Church l visited a prison yard and a paddy field.

A shovel was leaning on an old tree and the prisoners sweated their guilt while washing their sins in the dirt.

Meanwhile a farmer stood with fears orbiting his hips and his waist churned into the ragged structure of a chewed sugarcane in front of my eyes.

While today a fireman in my street sped himself with a prayer to push the sky down.

I don't know why it happened but they all didn't get water in the right amount.

And no god came to pick up their mistakes under five seconds because everyone can't be saved at the same time.

I know l can't be an output of a successful rescue mission unless l forgive man-made disasters inside my building.

I have to convince myself that love is to cry for flowers and still be mad about bees.

And if l can't be saved, let me die and when l die, don't burn me because I'm afraid to fade away slowly, afraid to tremble in the open when the night closes in.

Afraid to be blown out birthday candles just to feel the light.

Now l want to cry for the crushed can lying near my toes.

It begs me to forgive the kicks of those school kids with torn sleeves before l return home.

And l know in the morning their mothers were so caught up decorating their blues they lost their way to the kitchen.

As l said l want to cry, but my body is sick.

And the chemist told me I shouldn't break down during high fever because paracetamols get confused that way.

Burning is a liquid rage and let me sail while l still breathe the universe.

So today l have to prefer anger because my therapist charges more when I'm sad.

And every alternate day l have to buy groceries, so l can't afford to be sad daily.

So after buying them and before peeling them, l will slam my door and save my room because my sister says she worries more when l don't slam my door.

And l will sit on my floor, sleep while listening to the ending song of Finding Nemo.

---------

CONNED- Madeeha Kazi

I had a dream

of the ending world

trees with fire

and flowing roads..

falling stars

and broken dreams

cause I didn't know our gods were different

different for you , different for me

different places , different sacred books

all we read , none taught hate

yet we do , watching people sigh

supreme being made us one

foolish folks divided the creator.

did people ruling the world

forget that there is an end

no you's , no ME's are going to stay

we will become they when we leave the play

the play of world we are acting in

holding our characters , but really missing mine

this just makes me wonder,

are we just wallowing all along?

or just write down made up stories

to tell , the truths we wish we could say out loud ..

tomorrow if I die

remember me and my lies

and don't wonder how , I have books filled with thoughts , read them aloud

so that you understand why

don't know if I meet a beauty or a beast

cause far I stare are some villains and their stories

well, no rich can deny , no poor can explain

loosing someone is just no game....

my gyration on this stage of play might

replete sometime

I can just fore warn you , all the arduous things in your way most time

I was once there too just by your side

you will look again , at that empty seat which was once mine !!

thank you

Shabana's House- Aaryan Raj

Among the crowded streets of the city

I'm a building old and frail,

the neon signs above me

cast a faint light on my tale.

I've got broken glass for windows— my weary blind eyes,

the shards of which have traces many

from an Indian sweat's drop

to a Nepalese tears from cries.

My rooms are painted bright at night,

to hide the gloom that grows

to lure the moths to come and feast

on the lives within me enclosed.

My stairs are stained with cracks and blood

like the fate of lives I keep,

and through these stairs I witness

a rich man's virtue slip.

While the "virtuous" man enters the gate

Shabana gets ready

to be served like meat on plate,

to earn something for living.

Her room's a false beauty

covering the pains and screams

she sits in front of the dusty mirror

working on her charm.

Her pale hands have a red shade nail polish,

and she wears a floral salwar

from earrings to anklet

she wears everything like an ideal woman.

She then locks her daughter in a room

to protect her pure heart

but the little girl is mature enough

to understand the misery about to start.

The "virtuous" man then enters the room,

his mind, filled with the life's woes,

like a storm ready to break

he starts removing her salwar's folds.

She lies still on the blue mattress,

the one her daughter likes,

while the "virtuous" man turns into a beast before her sight.

He rips her soul with sharp teeth,

and the room fills with her shrieks

her daughter bangs and vainly tries

to see if her mother's fine.

The brute uses her like she's a dead thing

breaking all the ornaments she wore

and countless times insults her, calling her a whore.

The irony is the brute himself is not more than a pimp

who every night visits a different me to quench his thirst in dim.

The fiend then leaves and walks out of the room,

Shabana sobs for a while thinking of her fate's doom.

She then unlocks her daughter and hugs her,

and stays silent on her scared questions

in this while Shabana gets another order

breaking her daughter's affection.

The horrors that my moist walls see

can give anyone a trauma,

this was just one Shabana

and sadly there are many like her in my drama.

Stripped and Reborn: Every Woman's Tale- Sarmistha Neogy

I was born a little ‘Girl’ to parents who caressed me with love and affection,

But I was stripped naked when society termed me the ‘Weaker Sex.’

I was born again when I imbibed education in the truest sense,

But I was stripped naked when society exclaimed, ‘Why educate her? She is a girl!'

I was born again the day I first bled,

But I was stripped naked when myths and taboos made me 'untouchable.'

I was born again when my body developed contours,

But I was stripped naked when my body was devoured by predators.

I was born again the day I got married,

But I was stripped naked when dowry, domestic violence, and marital rape tore me apart.

I was born again when I became a mother,

But I was stripped naked when society knew 'it' was a girl.

I was born again when I was regarded as the creator,

But I was stripped naked when I was held guilty for my vagina.

I was born again when I was worshiped as a deity,

But I was stripped naked when I faced everyday molestation.

I was born again when I learned to stand up against oppression,

But I was stripped naked when I was asked to keep mum.

Today as my soul departs and I rest in peace,

You can't strip me naked, as I am beyond your reach.

You can pull me down, tear me apart, make me naked,

I will keep rising every time, because I am a WOMAN... a Woman of strength

INFERTILE MOM- Sameeha Irshad

In quiet moments, tears softly flow

A heartache's tide , a river's woe.

Dreams once held,now distant and blurred.

A song unsung, a whispered word.

A cradle empty,longing so deep

Through silent nights,my secrets keep.

A path untaken,a journey unknown.

Yet strength within me has surely grown.

Oh,how I yearn for a tender embrace

To feel a heartbeat,to see a face

But in my sorrow,a flicker of light,

A love unyielding, burning bright.

I'll paint my hopes on the canvas of night,

With stars as my guide,I'll take flight.

Though I may grieve, my spirit mends,

In verses of sorrow,my heart transcends.

For within my words,my pain takes flight,

A catharsis of soul ,a beacon of light.

Infertile I may be,but a mother still,

With boundless love in heart's gentle thrill.

Whispers in shadow, questions unkind,

Society's gaze,a weight on my mind.

"Don't you have children"?they ask eyes piercing through,

As if my worths measured by what I can't do.

Blame in their glances, judgemental stares,

As if my mistakes are something I bears.

Unspoken accusations,words left unsaid,

A torrent of doubt upon my heart's thread.

Invisible scars from their well-intentioned words,

As if my pain is a script for their folks and herds.

"Why haven't you tried this"?they offer their fix,

As if their solution could heal wound so deep.

I'm more than a question, a puzzle to solve,

My worth as a woman can't merely revolve,

Around motherhood promise,a path not my own,

Yet I should stand with resilience,my strength brightly shown.

Invisible battles, a war within me,

A quest for acceptance,to set my heart free

I'll rise above judgements,their doubts I'll defy.

Journey is mine,and with purpose I'll fly.

In dreams we meet,my precious one,

A love eternal,never undone.

I'll dream of you untill my last breath,

In dreams,I hold you close,no death.

Tiny fingers, a touch so dear

Whispered lullabies,soft and clear,

A bond unbroken,forever we keep

In dreams we meet , while stars softly weep.

But still ... Infertile I am.

Broken and beautiful -Sanika Aradhye.

Broken but beautiful.....

Beautiful things have dents and scratches too,

One day we will accept what we already knew,

Going through phases of emptiness to feel full again,

It feels like finding peace in the sound of rain......

Bruised Hollow got the courage to fly with broken wings,

It's like the beauty of a rose with a thorn that stings,

The heart grows like a flower that can still grow after a forest fire,

Life feels like a myth where happiness is just a desire........

Every emotion is hidden in that graceful smile,

When it's about to get healed it opens up a whole new file,

Being blamed without any mistakes feels like our existence is a curse,

When it comes to trusting somebody that makes it even worse.........

Saying goodbye to all this even if our heart wants to hold on,

And experiencing all the grief that makes us look upon,

Honest feelings and bad timings made it more painful,

But it will always end up being broken but beautiful.........

"Take Me Back......!"- Aparna Sarkar

The world of certainty ended and

so many people seemed to know why!

It's getting harder to remember what it felt like,

Before my mind could apprehend,

things traded in the blink of an eye !!

One moment I was a happy child with a wandering soul,

And the next, I am oscillating between Hysteria and Calm

Emotions.....I am failing to control !!

I don't know when and why did I grow up so fast?

The " Unlimited Horizon " I clung to, is slipping away,

Midlife is all about scattered friendships filled with compassionate dismay !!

Take Me Back ! Take Me Back to when I used to

inventory and trade for candies with friends,

Growing up is more of losing childhood fantasies

to keep up with trends!!

Once used to be a buzzing bee,

Now I find myself inaudible amidst the crowd !

How did I become so nonchalant, while scuffling to be loud !!

As life unfolds with it's brutal swiftness,

And uncertainty confronts " The Spring " ,

Take me back to the era where I could dance and sing !!

Can I learn 'How to let go?'

While flitting back and forth between now and where I used to be !

Take me back to when my heart was full and mind was free !!

I feel breathless with all the possibilities at times.....

Only if I could slow time to a pulse,

I would have collected a few more years !

Few more "doll houses", Many more "marble spheres " !!

While I long for restoration,

I cannot cling on to my sorrow !

That's life......" There was a before, There will be a tomorrow " !!

But if you ever decide to step into my brain,

You will find me making paper boats, standing drenched in the rain !

Take Me Back, Take Me Back !!

mother taught me- Rajeev Anand Kushwah

mother taught me

to love beyond boundaries.

the funny thing is,

she never taught me.

I almost picked up everything,

by myself,

everyday,

step by step.

in this house

marriage was just an alliance

two people providing for children.

she gave me everything,

her parents could never.

mother taught me

cooking the perfect meal,

welcoming people in our home,

and our heart.

taking care,

of the little inconveniences,

for others’ comfort.

mother taught me

growing,

amidst the traumas.

nourishing others,

after the day’s over.

mother taught me

being fierce,

standing firm on your ground.

facing the storm,

the aftershocks.

but

she did not teach me any of it,

it was just for her daughters.

and I,

I just happened

to pick it up.

I still remember

the stories,

her unfulfilled dreams.

she expects me,

to fulfil father’s dreams.

I still remember

when no one read her mind,

nor did she speak.

the elders announced,

the voices of men suffice.

I still remember

as a little boy,

my sisters as little girls

watering the plants,

never knowing where to stop.

as an adult,

I keep loving people,

still

not knowing how to stop.

through her marriage

mother taught me

sometimes

love fails us.

as an adult,

I don’t understand

“what to do when we fail love?”

she always told me

"Rajeev...always be a good man!"

as an adult,

I wonder

“why do good people always make the worst mistakes?”

I still remember

screams,

silenced and otherwise.

midnight fights

in which she never fought for herself,

but for us,

our safety.

mother taught me

to never give up.

but then,

she never did,

because,

I picked it up.

now

I’m twenty-two,

inferring life,

hanging by a thread.

“I feel like a woman,

like my mother”

I keep loving,

everyone,

I get along with

filling

absence.

I'm her,

in other ways

like my love,

for you

unconditional.

her condition

loved others,

never herself.

my lovers say

“we love the way you love”

and then,

leave.

mother

never left,

neither us

nor herself

from whatever,

the patriarchy made of her.

“I care the same way for you,

the way she cared for me”

hell!

you even said once

“you’re just like my mother”

by learning,

what wasn’t meant for me,

she's making

a weak man.

who’ll never love himself,

she did make one.

but then,

she did not,

because,

I picked it up.

I was never close to her,

nor that I’m now.

she’s just a mother

who loves her son,

unconditionally

like all mothers.

I’m the son

who’ll only be

a disgrace.

because,

I’m queer.

I wish,

she could have,

loved herself.

I wish,

she could have,

learned

a man as a partner,

isn’t everything.

I wish,

she could have,

known

after loving everyone,

she’d still

be alone.

I wish,

she could have

been herself,

a little more,

been on her own.

I wish,

there was

more happiness,

than trade-offs,

more care,

than sacrifices,

more love,

than grief.

maybe,

I would have -

loved myself,

a little more.

maybe,

I would have

learned

to be on my own.

maybe,

I would not be

over-loving everyone,

making them,

love me

a little more.

maybe,

I would know

a companion,

isn’t everything.

maybe,

I wouldn’t be repenting

from everything!

I wish

mother loved herself,

a little more.

I wish

mother never taught her

son

that.

I’d have

picked that up.